


Pregnancy & Betrayal

by Angelily_Viventis



Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [40]
Category: Alan Rickman - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Cravings, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fucking, Harry Potter References, Heartbreaking, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Miscarriage, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Sad Ending, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelily_Viventis/pseuds/Angelily_Viventis
Summary: Fluff and Angst about (Y/N) and Alan's first expecting child.
Relationships: Alan Rickman/Original Female Character(s), Alan Rickman/Reader
Series: Alan Rickman x Plus-size reader [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729954
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Pregnancy & Betrayal Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

(Y/N) moves uncomfortably as she lays on her back, staring up at the pitch-black bedroom ceiling. All is dark in quiet West London as the grandfather clock downstairs chimes twelve times.

She turns her head towards her husband, listening to his soft snoring, his mouth hanging open slightly. How she envies his peaceful sleeping patterns these days.

She looks down at her large belly under the white duvet and tuts in annoyance. She's eight months and twelve days pregnant with their healthy baby girl and all she wishes to do is have a full night's sleep, but she can't with hunger gnawing at her insides.

Her eyes are droopy, sleep ready to overcome her, but she finds herself unable to sleep as her insides are burning and churning. She sighs as she closes her eyes, trying very hard to ignore her hunger.

After three minutes her eyes snap open as a warm sensation runs through her insides - _nausea._ She knows she will have to get something to eat soon before she upturns her already empty stomach.

(Y/N) doesn't understand, she had two servings of dinner that Alan had cooked, a side salad, cheese and crackers, as well as a fruit salad before going to bed two hours ago.

_How can I still be hungry?_

She mentally scans their pantry and kitchen cabinets for something that she feels like eating right now.

_Nothing._

Everything in the kitchen downstairs will need composition and preparation. Besides, what she really wants isn't in this house at all.

She slowly opens her nightstand, careful not to make a noise, and fiddles until she grabs hold of the chewing gum container. She pops one of the minty fresh squares into her mouth before lying back down.

 _This will do for now,_ she thinks to herself as she tries to go back to sleep again.

Five minutes later her stomach imitates the sound of a dying whale, and she worriedly looks over at Alan in the fear that she might have woken him up.

With a sneer, she removes the tasteless chewing gum from her mouth and deposits it into the waste bin by her bedside. That's definitely not what she's craving.

(Y/N) wanted something sweet. Or salty. Or both. Or anything.

 _Wait, this can't be hunger talking,_ she decides. She never craved food this badly at night. _No, this is the baby who's hungry and demanding._

Their sweet baby girl who is now kicking against her mother's ribcage to remind her that she needs nourishment.

This was for sure Alan's part of the baby's DNA - he is forever hungry and snacking on something. Well, _that_ and of course (Y/N)'s DNA too. She always gets what she sets her mind too, so it comes to no surprise that this small child is already so demanding.

 _Curse this tiny demanding Baby Rickman!_ She sighs heavily as she rolls onto her side, her back now to Alan.

"Sweetheart, is everything alright?" comes Alan's voice thick with sleep, groggy and muffled as his nose presses into the pillow after he shifts to lay on his stomach.

"Are you awake?" She asks hopeful, looking at him over her shoulder.

 _A sigh._ "I am now."

"Well, now that you ask..." she starts, turning towards him. "I’m hungry.”

She thought about making up an excuse about getting in the right sleeping position, but why play games? It is late, they are tired, and she is keeping them both up.

 _Wait…_ She already decided it wasn’t her who is hungry.

“Baby Rickman is demanding food and she won’t let me sleep until she gets fed, ” she corrects herself, hearing a slight laugh sound escaping Alan's gravely throat.

"Then put us both out of our misery and go eat something," he suggests.

"We have nothing!" She answers immediately.

_A beat._

She knows he's giving her time to rephrase her statement as what she's saying is utter bollocks, for they do have a well-stocked kitchen.

"... that she's craving right now..." she sighs defeated.

Alan sniff before he switches on his bedside lamp, a dim yellow light flooding the room. It's dim enough to not hurt the eyes and enough that (Y/N) can now make out her large hump even more distinctly.

A chime from Alan's phone indicates he has a new message and he quickly snatches up his phone as he reads it.

_Who could be texting him at this hour?_

“And what, pray tell, does this little one want?” He asks slightly distracted.

(Y/N) hums in thought.

What _doe_ s she want?

“Bubblegum Steri Stumpie, Nutella, something dried and meaty, and chips.” She answers, listing off her greatest wants.

“Chips? At this hour?” There is humour evident in Alan's voice as he looks up from his phone, locking the screen and placing it down on his nightstand again.

"With lots of vinegar..." she says, slurping up the saliva that's threatening to drip from the corners of her mouth.

She rolls onto her side, facing him, as she stares up at his sleepy face.

He groans loudly like a teenager being told to do their chores before he dramatically flicks the duvet off his body and swivels his legs off the bed.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asks, leaning on her elbow.

Alan stands up, adjusting his boxer briefs between his legs, and takes his phone off his bedside table.

"I'm calling Michael. He signed a 24/7 contract, he can make a trip to a convenience store," he mutters as he fingers in his number.

(Y/N) feels bad for Michael, their driver, and Anthony, Alan's assistant. They're two defenseless males who had to witness her hormones getting the better of her time-and-again for the past eight months, to no choice of their own. But, that's the job they signed up for in Alan's life.

"I make no guarantees on him being able to acquire chips at this late hour.”

 _Was that a joke?_ All hell will break loose if (Y/N) can't have her steaming hot chips tonight.

(Y/N) sniffles a laugh and buries herself back into the bed, cocooning herself in the blankets.

"Tell me when the food gets here," she calls out after him as he makes his way out the door, turning in his steps and looking at her.

"Hold on, why am _I_ doing this? Why aren't _you_ calling Michael?"

"Because..." she smirks as she tries to come up with an excuse. "...You're partially responsible for this small babe threatening to eat me alive."

He purses his lips at her as he turns around and walks down the stairs.

"Point for us, I think," she whispers quietly down at her belly.

What the _fuck_ is that?! (Y/N) sits up confused and frightened in bed, thirty minutes later.

She managed to drift off to sleep with the satisfaction of knowing someone out there is getting her food before a startling constant radio static noise woke her up.

" _Your delivery is here, Your Majesty,”_ the velvet smooth voice of Alan Rickman rings over the house intercom.

Relief and annoyance wash over (Y/N) at the same time like twin waves, her hand coming to rest over her pounding heart.

“Why would you scare me like that?” She asks in breathy annoyance after she gets up and walks over to the bedroom wall where the intercom is.

 _“You told me to tell you when your food is here,”_ Alan states like a fact.

“I didn’t mean like this.”

 _“Oh, please,”_ he scoffs. _“There is no way I am yelling across this large house. And do you know what time it is? I’m not traversing the stairs more times than necessary. I rather think this is more convenient.”_

(Y/N) looks down at her stomach, gently running a hand over it as she moans petulantly into the intercom.

 _“Just hurry up,”_ is his last words before he clicks the intercom off.

After hurriedly grabbing one of Alan's oversized jumpers from his closet and throwing it over her shivering form, she enters the kitchen only to see Alan ripping the newspaper that was holding the deliciously golden hot chips.

Her nose crinkles at the sharp smell of vinegar and she notices that he already emptied the contents of the plastic shopping bag and displayed them on the counter in a straight line.

 _Beef jerky, bubblegum Steri Stumpie, Nutella, and the chips._ Everything she had asked for.

Her eyes light up, causing Alan's straight line that was his mouth to pull into a smirk. (Y/N) approaches the island, pulling out a barstool and sitting down.

“He even got the chips at this time,” she pouts her lips to show how impressed she is and nods.

"And fresh, too. Never underestimate those who work for me, my love,” he growls and leans on his elbows across the island, landing a wet kiss on her lips.

"Hmmm," she hums in approval against him, "you're a snack I'd like to save for later."

She picks up the beef jerky, pulling the plastic open along the perforated line.

"Sorry, he couldn't get that South African biltong you always get, but unfortunately none of the locals stock that here, can you believe?" He mocks sarcastically.

"Hmm, who would've thought," she nips back. "No, these will suffice. I am, however, surprised that he got the Steri Stumpie."

"He didn't. We still had some left in the back of the pantry from your last shipment."

"So, what would you like?” Alan asks, leaning elegantly against the counter with a fork in hand, waiting for her order.

He pulls his phone from his breast pocket and checks something quickly before she hears the distinctive click of the locking screen as he slides it back into his pocket. Even in his matching winter pajamas, he looks as smooth and debonair as ever.

Shaking her head to rid herself of thoughts of attractiveness and love for the meanwhile, (Y/N) turns her mind back to what their little one wanted more than anything right now; food. 

She chews on the side of her cheek as she thinks. What _did_ she want? Those extra limpy chips look particularly enticing.

"The chips, I'm thinking," she perks up in her seat, elegantly taking the fork from his grip before stabbing a poor defenseless chip and devouring it.

"Oooh, God," she moans lowly, her eyes shut tight. "That's so good."

Alan smiles as he watches her before turning to the fridge and taking the tomato sauce out, squirting a load of it onto the newspaper for her.

"Hm," she purses her lips dissatisfied. "I think I'll try the Nutella now..."

He picks up the jar and twists the lid off. He takes out two spoons - clearly, he can't resist it either thanks to his sweet tooth - and hands her one.

(Y/N) feels a little dissatisfied. She absolutely wants that Nutella but she feels like the sweet taste alone won't suffice.

“And the jerky, " she adds as she leans over the counter and scoops up the opened vacuum bag.

Alan looks at her as if she grew two heads.

“Not together," she laughs. “I just want jerky too.”

“Like I care what you choose to do with your food," he shrugs and passes the jar of hazelnut chocolate spread to her.

Alan leans over and dips his spoon in the jar, twisting it as he pulls it out, elegantly putting the spoonful into his mouth.

(Y/N) does the same. The Nutella is delightful on her tongue, definitely worth the wait. Amazing even.

Yet, it isn't enough. Their tiny baby girl demands something different.

A little deflated, (Y/N) puts the spoon back into the jar before she uses her thumb and index finger to fish out a piece of dried beef jerky from the packet.

She sees Alan eyeing her as she bites into a piece and pulls on it before chewing.

_Equally nice, equally as satisfying._

The meaty flavour is closer to hitting the spot but still just missing. It's like a kiss that didn’t quite have the right chemistry. From the kick in her ribs, she can tell Baby Rickman isn't satisfied either.

_Hmm…_

(Y/N)’s brown eyes dart between the jerky in her hand and the jar of Nutella on the counter. She catches sight of Alan looking at her like he knew what she was thinking. He's silently begging for her not to attempt it, _but it only makes sense_!

_If both flavours are almost perfect, then the two together should be it._

(Y/N) pulls out another spoonful of the chocolate spread, dipping the piece of jerky in it, and eats it.

Alan chokes on a chip, quickly turning towards the kitchen sink for a drink of water from the tap.

_It is. It is perfect._

No way should this taste so good, but it's exactly what she's been craving - salty and sweet. Her stomach settles and she figures the little one must agree, so she picks another piece of jerky and does it again.

"Dear God, what is wrong with you?" He grimaces, heaving in a breath as he recovers from his choking fit.

"What? It's exactly what she wanted, okay?" She replies a tad sheepishly, putting the spoon and jerky down in the fear that she might have upset Alan.

"Darling, no, please, go ahead," he coos, his face immediately softening at seeing her embarrassment.

"I was only kidding. If that's what makes the both of you happy, then consider me happy, too."

She smiles a small smile at him before taking another bite.

"Can we go to the movies later tonight?" She asks hopeful, looking up at him as she sucks the Nutella off the spoon.

"I mean- I guess. I'll have to check my schedule first, but I'm sure we can go."

"Thank you, darling," she leans closer over the counter and pecks him on the cheek.

"Anything in particular showing that you'd like to see?" He asks as he scrolls through the list of movies on his phone, showing at the local theatre.

"Hmm," she hums, "Prisoner of Azkaban is showing at five-fifty in the evening."

"God..." he breathes. "Are you being serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" She asks unfazed as she dips a hot limp chip into the tomato sauce, sliding it into her mouth. "I'm always up for some Snape action," she wiggles her eyebrows at him playfully.

"I don't know what about the bloke it is that you find so alluring," he mumbles, slightly jealous.

"Maybe because I know the _bloke_ who plays him and I also happen to know how skilled he is in bed..." she states teasingly, her pupils now dilated with increasing lust but she's too tired to act on it.

She yawns and quickly covers her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I think I'm done now," she rubs her hands together to get any food debris off, before closing the lid on the jar while Alan crumples the empty newspaper and tosses it into the bin.

"Let's get you two to bed then," he says sweetly as he walks up behind her, wrapping an arm around her and resting his hands on the belly that is carrying his child, before placing a sweet kiss on her temple.

He takes her soft hand in his, leading her out the door before she turns around and snatches the Steri Stumpie from the countertop to enjoy later during the early morning.


	2. Pregnancy & Betrayal Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: these are individual one-shots and function as stand-alone chapters. None of the work in these series follow on each other unless indicated as "Parts".

Alan lets go of his wife's hand as soon as they step onto the escalator, she standing one step above from him. He takes a moment to appreciate how much her backside has grown throughout her pregnancy to two thick juicy pears.

She steps off the escalator followed by him soon after.

"Do you care for anything?" He leans down to ask in her ear, referring to the snack bar.

"Oh, no, thanks. I couldn't possibly focus on eating anything during the movie," she politely declines.

 _Strange, she never declines food these days,_ he thinks to himself with a small frown.

He leads her over to the self-service kiosk where he selects their two comfort seats. She slips her hand into his as she waits for him to pull out his bank card from his wallet, finishing up their sale.

"Ready?" She asks after taking the printed tickets, slightly annoyed at the fact that his phone has been ringing three times already.

"One sec, let me run to the gents first," he says as he presses the answer key, bringing it up to his ear as he disappears into the restroom.

She patiently waits for him outside the men's room, scrolling through reviews of _the Prisoner of Azkaban._ She's seen it just over twelve times already but she's always interested to see what new reviews pop up.

She absent-mindedly drags her white Converse's heel across the grey carpeted floor as she waits. Looking down, she can't see past her belly in her tight black dress but she finds a way to admire her swollen feet - her Converse being the only shoes that seem to fit her these days.

"Good to go?" His voice pulls her from her thoughts.

"Hm," she confirms, "who was that calling?" She slips her phone into her black Michael Kors bag, following Alan down the corridor.

"No one of importance," he mumbles under his breath as he holds the door to number eleven theatre open for her to enter.

It's dark, the pre-show advertisements already playing as she cautiously makes her way up the lit stairs. Alan, always the concerned husband, rests his hand lightly on the back of her hip while making sure she doesn't trip and fall.

They scoot into their two aisle seats, (Y/N) swiveling in her seat to accommodate for her large stomach. She plops her bag on the swivel tray attached to her luxury seat before she sinks back into the plush blue velvet seat, grabbing hold of Alan's hand and resting it on the armrest.

He lets go of her hand before he fishes his phone out of his pocket, (Y/N) eyeing him as he sends a quick text message to someone, and turning silent mode on afterwards.

He smiles a tight-lipped smile before grabbing her hand as soon as the theme song to Harry Potter starts playing, the Warner Bros logo appearing on the screen.

They enjoy the movie for half-an-hour, (Y/N) watching intently as Remus Lupin helps the students to fight off boggarts before she starts stirring endlessly in her seat. First, she's hot, then she's cold. She takes off her denim jacket and places it over her lap to cover her legs that are becoming more and more chilly. She soon loses interest in the movie, biting at the inside of her cheek as her eyes scan the dark theatre.

She looks up at Alan, his roman emperor features being highlighted by the silver screen. She leans closer as she pecks a kiss on his cheek.

Surprised, he turns his head towards her, his features softening at her kindness. He leans over her, his hand caressing her cheek before he kisses her soft lips.

They feel like two school children fondling in the dark as they continue their make-out session.

"There's a family coming," he whispers, quickly pulling away and sitting back against his seat.

He shakes his head in disbelief at the family of four as they scoot into their seats in front of them. _Who only arrives halfway through a bloody film?_

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Alan asks startled as he feels (Y/N)'s hand snake between his legs, gently squeezing his hardening cock through his pants.

He throws his head back at the wonderful squeezing sensation.

"Nothing. Just... focus on the movie..." she breathes into his ear as he diverts his attention to the screen again.

She hoists herself on her seat, leaning over at him, her tongue licking at the shell of his ear as her other hand unzipping his trousers.

He swats her hand away, and even in the dark, she can see him blushing before he pulls his zipper up.

Paying his actions no attention, she reaches for his large hand, slyly guiding him under her jacket across her lap, under her black dress and in between her legs, pulling her panties aside and stroking herself with his fingers.

He watches her in astonishment before he says quietly, "I would like to watch the movie."

"I would like to suck your cock," she bites back impatiently in a whisper.

His eyebrows furrow, his lips pursed as he studies her face. Her cheeks are flushed and glowing red, her lips swollen, perspiration evident on her forehead and upper lip.

_She's horny._

"If you had said so earlier, I wouldn't even have bothered with the mov-"

"Oh, God. Snape is on, can you..." she smiles at him devilishly, the lighting from the screen sparkling in her wicked brown eyes.

He sighs exasperatedly before adjusting in his seat, turning closer towards her as he slips two thick fingers inside her tight hole, which is already dripping wet.

She bites down on her bottom lip, pressing herself up against the armrests as he fingers her through the scene of _page 394_.

She finally catches her breath again when Alan pulls his fingers out of her. Slowly, he runs his fingers now coated in her slick juices, along her inner thighs.

"Can we take this to the car, please?" She whispers against the shell of his ear, dragging her tongue sweetly along his flesh. "I can't wait much longer."

Alan sighs, knowing that she's dead set determined to have his way with him. To be honest, she's kind of worked him up too now. He motions his head to the direction of the door and she quickly puts her denim jacket on, grabbing her handbag, as they both make their way out of their seats.

They round the corner, still in the pitch-black corridor before he walks up behind her, pulling her back against the curve of his body. He reaches between them and squeezes her thick buttocks in the palm of his hand, kissing her delicate neck.

They hurriedly make their way to their parked car without drawing attention. He holds the passenger door to the black Jaguar open for her and she steadily lowers herself down into it.

"Shall we head home?"

"No," she says quickly, "can't we do it in the car, please?"

"Darling, I-"

"Please, Al," she pleads. "Wouldn't that be so sexy?"

"We can't risk getting caught, (Y/N)," he warns, gripping the steering wheel with his eyes shut.

She knows he's considering it.

"I'll keep an eye out, don't worry," she says sweetly, her hand running along the inside of his thigh making his cock twitch.

He clears his throat before turning the keys in the ignition causing the Jag to roar to life before he drives them to a dark and secluded area in the parking lot.

After the both of them slide into the back seats, (Y/N) immediately latches onto his lips. Alan's hands unknowingly rub her inner thigh, creeping closer to her covered sex.

He wants this as much as she does.

She pulls back for air, quickly undoing his trousers and freeing him from his restraints. She takes a moment to admire his thick cock and balls poking out of his trousers, ready and already leaking pre-cum.

She adjusts herself, kneeling on her seat as she leans down over him, slowly taking him in her warm, wet mouth.

He moans loudly at how good it feels, quickly glancing outside the window to make sure no one is in the vicinity. With her arse in the air like this, he takes the opportunity to lift her dress and expose her bottom.

She hums around his shaft at feeling the cool air hitting her exposed flesh, seething as she feels his large hand smacking forcefully down against her cheeks.

"Fuck, baby, that's so hot. Do it again," she comes up for air, looking at him through hooded eyelids.

He slaps her again before saying, "that's enough of that, now it's my turn to return the favour. Let me eat you out..."

She smiles a wicked smile before adjusting herself to lay on her back, her legs spread wide open, her feet both pressed against the headrests of the front and back seat.

Alan tries to no avail, as he lowers himself between her legs in the small space, pulling her brand new lace panties aside. He sticks out his tongue and merely touches the tip of her clit before his lower back starts aching.

"Unfortunately... the space is too small, darling," he emerges from between her legs, helping her sit up in her seat.

"I bet I can still get on top of you, though," their bodies scoot past each other, her one leg making its way to his other side.

"Well, I need to-" he scoots himself to the middle seat.

"-I need space to put my legs," she holds on to his hip as she hoists herself on top of him.

"Ow, ow, ow, wait-"

"-what?" He asks concerned, his hands gently resting on her sides.

"Ow, I can't - my legs won't fit over you. How have I done this in the past?"

He helps her shift on top of him, her neck now slightly craning downwards in order to not hit the roof of the car.

They start grinding against each other, (Y/N) desperately trying to feel for his cock between their bodies. She needs to feel something, _anything,_ between her legs at this point.

"Darling, I-" he sighs, "I can't reach you from this angle."

"This goddamn belly of mine is in the way... Curse you and your wonderful cock for making me pregnant."

"You're just giving me blue balls now, (Y/N)," he admits, his eyes now scanning their surroundings.

"Then let's just go home!"

"You need to pipe down, people will know what's happening in the back of this car."

"I don't give a shit what _people_ think..." she grumbles frustratingly as she slides off of him, pulling her dress down.

"God, look at these windows," he breathes frustratedly as they re-enter the front seats of the car, the windows now completely fogged up from their body heat.

"How about a hotel?" He suggests as they come on to the motorway.

"Are you sure? Wouldn't it just be easier to go home?" She asks with a smirk.

"No, you were right. It will be much sexier if we did it at a hotel. The car... might have been a tad small for our needs."

"Are you saying I'm fat, Alan Rickman?" She states, her eyes curious.

"Wha- of course not, darling! I'm just saying that a hotel would better suit our needs while keeping with the thrill of it all. We'd have a bed, a shower, multiple other surfaces that we can use..." he looks over at her, their hands interlocked as he maneuvers the steering wheel with the other.

"Do you have anywhere in mind?" She asks reluctantly.

He smirks before pulling in to the round-about valet parking of The Savoy, London.

"I have a room on standby for just such occasions," he says as he comes around her side, holding the car door open and helping her step out.

The valet attendant's face lights up as Alan drops the key to the sleek Jaguar in his awaiting hand along with a discreet £50 bill.

He leads her into the vast open-plan lobby and she's careful not to let her sneakers squeak against the polished black and white tiled marble floors.

Her eyes roam the luxuriously large space that reeks of _old money._ Sky-high white marble ceilings with intricate square carvings block out the wooden paneled walls along with tall looming pillars rounded off with delicate golden details. The furniture is not her taste, too old-fashioned and royal-like, but with her background in design, she knows how much at least one of those wing-back chairs cost.

They walk hand-in-hand along the lengthy lobby and come to a stop at the large brown front desk where they're greeted by a lady in her mid-sixties, hair white as snow, tied in a bun on top of her head. Her make-up is kept professionally to a minimum, her black uniform well-matched with a red necktie. Her face adorns a soft smile, but her skin is similar to that of old leather, deep grooves along her lips indicative of a lifetime of smoking.

(Y/N) sees the lady's green eyes shimmer in familiarity at seeing Alan and she wonders if the clerk is a fan of his acting work. Then, she looks at Alan and her smile slightly drops at seeing how nervous he looks over at the lady, slightly shaking his head and telling her something with his eyes.

_That's odd. It's as if they've met before. What is he not telling me?_

"I called earlier for a reservation," he clears his throat, his eyes no longer looking at the front desk clerk.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Rickman. We'll just need a check on your credit card information again. Simon over there will help you with that," she indicates towards a skinny bald middle-aged man in the same black uniform and red necktie.

"I'll be but a minute," he breathes down at (Y/N) and follows the younger man into what (Y/N) supposes is the records office.

She blows out a breath, clutching her Michael Kors bag in front of her after she adjusts her denim jacket.

She can feel the pair of green eyes looking at her and she looks back up at the older woman with a small smile.

"I wouldn't even bother, dear," the hotel clerk leans forward suspiciously.

"Sorry?" (Y/N) asks in confusion.

"He's a married man, you know? Been coming here for the past few weeks with his missus. Lovely lady, beautiful brunette."

"Is that so?" She says, her lips pursed as jealousy stirs inside her. She would've phrased _deep inside he_ r, but she's a hormonal woman who's eight months pregnant, it doesn't take much for her jealousy to kick in these days.

"And what have they been doing?" She asks accusingly.

"Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to say. Hotel-client-confidentiality, you know?"

_Of course, (Y/N). Damn this pregnancy brain of mine! Think of something, anything..._

"Well, If I am to step into a hotel room with that man tonight, I think I'd like to know what I'm letting myself in for, _you know?_ I wouldn't want to upset his _missu_ s... Help a girl out..."

"Fine," the old woman breathes sweetly.

It sure didn't take much persuasion to have her spill the beans. (Y/N) figures having to work behind a desk all day in such a prestigious hotel where all kinds of wealthy celebrities and politicians mingle must be quite a task, especially if one was to witness or overhear some juicy gossip and not be able to talk.

"They've been to see the ballroom a few times over the past two weeks and he's got our royal suite on hold for a week - they've been up there a few times."

 _£15,000 a night on_ _our fucking dime?! While he fucks some skank, and my fat arse and I are home alone waiting up until the early hours of the morning?!_

"Well..." Her blood starts boiling, her lips about to spew some heated words before her Google alerts cut her off.

She fishes her phone out of her bag with a huff, opening up Chrome as she scrolls through pictures of Alan handing another woman flowers at the entrance of this very hotel, dated a day prior.

_A day prior? The day that I was so emotional about my increasing eating habits that I called Alan in a fit of sobs? The day that he told me that he's unfortunately in a very important meeting and will call me back as soon as he gets a chance? THE. LYING. FUCKING. BASTARD._

Reluctantly, she turns the screen towards the clerk. "Would this be the _beautiful brunette_ you're referring to, Ma'am?"

"Ooh, yes, beautiful, isn't she? They make such a lovely couple," she coos.

(Y/N) looks down at her screen again.

_He looks so happy with her. So laid-back. He's barely this happy when he's with me these days. He's been acting all suspicious lately. All the phone calls... The late-night texts... Wait... was he talking to her before the movie earlier tonight?_

She looks at his shirt in the picture and wonders if the creases in them are from their fucking session or did she just not iron it well?

Her whole body is buzzing in anger and she feels a kick in her side indicating that Baby Rickman isn't happy about this either. Her cheeks are burning red out of embarrassment, her throat very dry all of a sudden.

She locks her phone, running her tongue along her top teeth, her lower jaw clenching as anger builds inside her.

_How can Alan do this to me? How can he do this to us, our child??? Is he already fed up with all of this?_

Her mind whizzes with angry thoughts as she stomps through the lobby towards the records office.

"Oh, there you are!" Alan says somewhat nervously as he stands in the doorway, quickly pressing the end call button on his phone, slipping it into his jacket pocket.

"What the hell is going on here?!" She asks furiously under her breath.

She's not stupid. She won't cause a scene in front of a high stakes crowd in a very famous hotel such as this, even though her emotions are running haywire.

Alan swallows guiltily, looking around to see if anybody notices, and gently takes her arm as he pulls her into the nearest dark room, closing the door behind them.

"(Y/N), I can expl-" he starts, very thankful that he cannot see her angry features in the dark.

"Explain?" She gasps exasperated.

"Explain what, Alan? That you're cheating on me? That you're throwing away your baby before even meeting her?"

"Wha- No..." He says stunned at her train of thoughts. "Darling, I would never cheat on you. Never in a million yea-"

"Oh, give up!! You're so full of shit, Alan. I have a witness and photographic evidence!" She whisper-shouts angrily.

"(Y/N), please, stay calm. You know you cannot become this worked up, especially so close to your due date. It's not safe for-" he pleads with her to calm down before she cuts him off.

"What do you even care?! You're out here whoring around while I'm the one who has to stay home and deal with all the morning sickness and the eating and the gaining weight..." she stops herself mid-sentence and Alan can sense her mind going into overdrive.

"Is that why you're with _her?_ Is it because I'm looking like a giant humpback whale these days that you've gone off to seek greener pastures? To dip your rod in a wetter lake?"

Alan has to really hold back his snickering in fear that she might just strike him, but her euphemisms are just so creative these days.

"Answer me, goddammit!" She shouts in anger, frustrated that he's not giving her a valid explanation to her questions so far.

"She's a party planner..." he says quietly, calmly.

"What does her occupation have to do with this, Alan? So, she's a party planner, so-fucking-what?! Then maybe you can hire her next time to plan our divorce part-"

"SURPRISE!!!"

The lights to the room their standing in, turn on and a group of thirty people jumps at them, startling (Y/N) slightly as gold and black balloons drop from the ceiling.

With a stunned expression, she turns around, recognizing all her colleagues from work - Thea, Aldie, Richard, Jean-Claude, and a few more familiar faces; she spots their group of close friends - Emma Thompson, Helen Mirren, Tim Burton, and Helena Bonham-Carter; and a few of her other girlfriends from around town.

"What... Is going on here?" She chuckles nervously, her anger and the previous argument still in the back of her mind, ready to resume.

"Don't tell me you forgot your own birthday... again?" Alan breathes in her ear as he wraps his hands around her from behind.

She turns her neck to look up at him as her hands clasp around her mouth.

"Oh, my God. Please tell me I didn't just make an utter fool out of myself?" She breathes in embarrassment causing Alan to chuckle.

"Don't worry, Al warned us that there might be a heated exchange of words between you two. He also told us to jump in as soon as things seem to get out of hand. The mention of _divorce_ seemed a good time," Emma says cheekily as she nears the couple, the crowd now roaring with laughter.

Alan lets go of his wife as Emma reaches around (Y/N) for a hug, "Happy birthday, darling," she says in her thick British accent before pecking a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you, Emma. I can't believe you were in on this and never let anything slip to me," (Y/N) chuckles embarrassed.

"Well, you only turn thirty once and Alan wanted to plan something special, especially so close to the birth," she says lovingly.

"He should've known better than to lead me to believe he's cheating - especially so close to the birth," (Y/N) reiterates the dames earlier words, causing the crowd to break out in laughter again.

"I'm sorry, my love. You know I'm a fan of the theatrics," he apologises with a kiss against her temple.

The evening proceeds with music, dancing, laughter, good wine (sparkling grape juice for (Y/N), tremendously good food, laughable stories, and gifts for both (Y/N) and the baby.

She really appreciates all the effort Alan went through to plan her birthday - from hiring the party planner, selecting her favourite dishes, decorating the ballroom, and even displaying her favourite flowers in beautiful sunflower bouquets throughout the room.

She feels in the need of a rest as she eyes the nearest chair, taking a seat and nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre.

She looks around her and she can't believe he managed to book out the entire ballroom with its elegant black and gold trimmings, dark wooden furniture, a fully stocked bar and a dance floor for all their friends' shenanigans.

Her hand rests on her stomach and she smiles a happy smile, her heartwarming with love as she thinks about her upcoming due date in two weeks from today. How she can't wait to hold their sweet baby girl and stare into her eyes that will no doubt resemble her husband's. Genetics have always fascinated (Y/N) and she can no longer hold back her excitement at seeing what their DNA combined will look like in their baby.

"Are you ready for dessert?" Alan's voice calls her from her trance and she looks happily up at him.

"And what, pray tell, are we having for dessert?" A smirk plays at her mouth.

"You."

She chuckles unbelievingly, shying her face away from her husband as he takes both her hands in his.

"Come on," he presses. "We never did finish what we started in the theatre earlier."

She casts her mind back and heat immediately starts to build between her legs.

"But the people," she moans.

" _The people_ will understand completely if a heavily pregnant woman says that she's tired and wants to retrieve to her Royal Suite..." He shoots her a knowing eyebrow, his chestnut eyes sparkling with mischief.

"The Royal Suite, you say?"

"It's ours for the week, my gift to you. I want you to relax in the weeks leading up to the baby's arrival, order room service as much as you want, make use of the spa, do whatever your heart desires."

They bid their goodbyes, the guests nowhere near ready to head back home yet as they keep on celebrating (Y/N)'s birthday on the dance floor.

They step out of their private elevator, the doors opening with a _ding_ into the Royal Suite - their home for the coming week.

(Y/N) is astound at the lavish beauty and luxury of it all. The Savoy's most lavish abode provides all the grandeur you'd expect from one of London's most lauded grande dames, as well as a unique perspective on modern-day London.

A procession of Thames-facing rooms stretching across the hotel's fifth floor, the suite's views of the South Bank are compelling, panoramic, ever-changing, and entirely peerless.

The entire suite is tastefully finished in gold and ivory and with interiors by Pierre-Yves Rochon, the 325 square meter Royal Suite is respectful of the Savoy's heritage but still manages to incorporate some unconventional features.

She peers into the lounge where a 'mini bar' is just that: a private bar, elegantly finished in faceted black and gold.

She's read about the immense bathroom that incorporates a whirlpool bathtub and luxury spa-worthy steam shower, and she can't wait to try it out tomorrow morning... or every second of the following day when she can get her hands on Alan.

She decides that breakfast will be best taken in the Morning Room, a pretty, wood-panelled eatery with attached kitchenette.

The capacious, cedar-lined walk-in wardrobe can easily accommodate the results of her multiple unrestrained shopping trips, while the bedroom is a simply finished, unfussy retreat with immensely comfortable, canopied Savoir bed.

"Fu... That feel so good, Babe," she moans as Alan unexpectedly latches onto her lips.

He quickly slips her handbag off her shoulder, sitting it on the ottoman in front of the bed, takes her denim jacket off, and slips her out of her short black dress. Without a second thought, he quickly rids himself of his attire too, standing stark naked in front of her.

Suddenly, she becomes very shy and decides to cover her clothed breasts with her arms, looking away shyly.

"Darling, what's the matter?" Alan asks sweetly in a mere whisper.

"Look at me, Al. I'm as big as a whale, why do you even want to touch me?" Her eyes meet his and a pang runs through his chest at seeing small tears form inside them.

"Darling, I love every inch of you. If I need to prove it, I'll kiss every single inch of you," he chuckles softly, unwrapping her arms slowly. 

"That's a lot of inches," she says quietly, still not meeting his gaze.

"I have a lot of time," he lifts her chin gently, smiling as they make eye contact.

He lays her slowly down on the luxurious hotel bed, pulling her closer to the edge by her ankles. With deft fingers he unties her Converse, discarding them and slowly slipping her white socks off.

She shyly spreads her legs. Heaven knows why, they've done it in every possible position before, heck, this man made her pregnant. Not man, _husband._ But still, why is she so shy, so timid?

She clears her throat awkwardly and it all makes sense to her. She's shy about having their baby still inside her as they do _it._

_Will she be able to hear? Of course, (Y/N). Will she be able to understand what's happening, though?_

She's pulled from her thoughts as Alan rests her legs on either side of his naked shoulders, scooting forward and breathing against her sex.

With skilled fingers he spreads her labia, uncovering her swollen nub. The doctors have mentioned to them how blood flow increases during pregnancy and that (Y/N) will most likely be constantly aroused, hence why her clitoris is constantly throbbing.

He feels bad for her having to walk around and go about her day while her every thought is probably about sex; how difficult it must be to feel pleasure between her legs the whole time without being able to do anything about it. He thinks about what it must feel like for a man to go about his day with a constant stiffy, and cringes at the painful thought.

Pushing all his thoughts to the back of his mind, he dives into her without hesitation, flicking his tongue to bring her pleasurable sensations. He knows what she likes, what she doesn't like, and he will give her his utmost attention tonight.

(Y/N) can feel the baby kicking against her walls, Alan too, as he looks up to see a tiny bulge pressing against her stomach. He lifts his hand and places it over his daughter's tiny foot, slowly leaning up towards her stomach, pausing his earlier task.

"Hey, my sweet angel," he whispers, and (Y/N) lifts her head to see what he's doing.

"Can I ask for one favour tonight? Can you please stop stressing your mother out, darling? She's really trying the best she can to care for you and right now she needs to relax a little. So, can you go to sleep now and let us have our fun, okay? We promise we won't get in your way."

He added the last part cheekily, but (Y/N) cannot help the wetness in her eyes at how gently he talks to their unborn baby. Similarly, she can't help the wetness between her legs as Alan latches on to her again.

(Y/N) rests her hand on top of Alan's, slightly worried about what's happening. She feels guilty for exposing her unborn child to such acts, but _forGod'ssakes,shehasneedstoo!!!_

Her thoughts speed up as her back arches off the bed, her hand now gripping at Alan's greying strands of hair between her legs. She lets out a long breathy moan as his tongue darts inside of her, his hands now gently caressing the insides of her thighs that's now squeezing his head.

A blush starts to creep up her neck coating her red as pleasure pulses through her veins.

"Stop, stop," she breathes, gently running her hand through the front of his hair.

He pulls away, looking up at her with concern.

"I don't want to cum just yet. Get up here," she instructs and he wastes no time as he gets off his achy knees and latches on to her lips.

The taste of herself on his lips is enough to drive her insane.

With utmost care, he lifts her legs gently to the sides of his hips.

"Here, take these pillows. You'll feel more comfortable," he helps her adjust three white goose-feather pillows behind her back as she sinks into them.

With his one large hand, he softly caresses her swollen breast, leaning forward and enveloping her nipple in his warm mouth.

"Ah," she seethes. "Careful, they're very sensitive," she warns quietly, her hand intertwining with the back of his hair as he suckles at her.

He takes his thick cock in hand and strokes himself a few times before gently entering her. Once inside her, he bens forward, his stomach pressing into hers as he tries to kiss her lips while thrusting.

She's buzzing with anticipation, but their position is not letting her have what she's craving.

"Fuck, baby. Both our stomachs are in the way," she says disappointed, her head falling back as she's ready to give up on their lovemaking session.

Patiently, he helps her by turning her around, placing the pillows under her stomach for support as she rests on all fours. She moans a few times as he enters her from behind, pumping into her, but the penetration is still not what she desires. She needs him to hit her sweet spot.

"Stop, stop," she says out of breath. "Can we try something else?"

He maneuvers them both so that he sits against the headboard, scooting her closer between his legs, having her sit in his lap with her back resting against his naked chest. He reaches around her and roams her large naked stomach, feeling every stretch mark's groove beneath his fingertips.

His hands make their way to her breasts, squeezing at her pulsating nipple.

She gasps, "Not too rough, they're very sensitive," she seethes.

"Oop, sorry," he whispers close to her ear.

He gently guides her to lift herself and lower herself down as she slowly sinks down onto him. She slinks her fingers into his, trying to hold on as he thrusts upwards into her.

This is exactly what she needed, what she wanted - to feel him fully submerged within her, hitting her sweet spot. With a few more thrusts she can feel her pleasure coil tightening, her muscles on the verge of contracting.

"Is... there a way... to cover her ears?" She pants as she keeps riding him, referring to their baby.

"Why?" He buries his face against her back as he increases his thrusts.

"Because her mother is about to cum," she squeals out, grabbing hold of Alan's thick forearms as she moans out his name.

"JesusfuckingChrist!!!!!" She screams, thrusting her hips to meet Alan's rhythm as she clamps down around him.

Her tightness provides the perfect pressure and stimulation around his cock that causes him to cum too, squirting his thick white seed inside her.

She stays in his lap, the both of them spent as they try to catch their breaths again.

"That's the most squirting I've ever seen from you," he pants in her ear.

"Either that or my water just broke," she giggles playfully causing Alan to chuckle.


	3. Pregnancy & Betrayal Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: ***miscarriage***

(Y/N) stretches her body out in her own bed for the first time in a week. The past week at _The Savoy_ has been amazing - being able to use all the facilities, being pampered and quite frankly, feeling like the Queen as the staff from the Royal Suite waited on her hand and foot.

But it's good to be back in her own bed. She's missed the familiar smell of their own home, the feel of their own Egyptian cotton sheets against her skin.

She stretches her arms out above her head, her nails scratching against the headboard in secret pleasure as her muscles enjoy a short bursts of euphoria.

"Sleep well?" Alan's rough morning voice calls softly next to her.

"Actually, this is the first time since I found out I'm pregnant that Baby Rickman let me sleep the entire night. She didn't stir once," she says with a satisfied smile across her face, rolling onto her side to face Alan.

Both their hands intertwine and rest on her large stomach as he shifts closer towards his wife, shuffling down slightly in the bed.

"Your days are counted, my dear," he bends his head and whispers to her stomach. "In less than a week you will make your appearance, very theatrically I would presume, and Mummy and Daddy will be so happy. We've got everything set up just right, just for you. I do hope you love your newly renovated baby room, heaven knows Mummy over here made me repaint it three times before settling on the initial colour again," he looks up at her sarcastically.

She clicks her tongue light-heartedly, running her fingers through his slightly greying sandy brown hair as her arm rests beneath her head. This has been their morning routine for the past week at the hotel - they would wake up together, sometimes (Y/N) not having been able to sleep at all the previous night, and then they would spend a good hour in bed where Alan would talk to their baby, telling her how much they can't wait to meet her, describing the house to her, or he would just read poems to her.

"I also know that it's just the over-thinker in her and that she's trying very hard to make sure everything is to your liking. Of course, I did have to remind her that your eyes will be closed most of the first few months and that you probably wouldn't mind at all..."

(Y/N) smirks hearing Alan, her cool hand slipping underneath his pajama shirt as she rakes her nails softly across his back.

"That said, and coming back to my initial statement, your days are counted. Quite literally, actually - after getting herself showered and dressed, your Mummy will go downstairs and draw a huge red cross on the calendar to mark another day closer to your arrival. Everyone is very excited to see you - Grandee and Gramps are excited, Mummy's family back in South Africa are excited, they'll all be Skypeing in for your arrival and then once everything is settled here at home they'll all fly over to meet you. What a wonderful day that must be..." Alan's sentence trails off, his voice slightly cracking. 

"What is it darling?" (Y/N) asks concerned as she looks down at him. 

He clears his throat, "Nothing, I'm just thinking... Once I get to hold her in my arms for the first time, how much she'll look like us... Besides for the day I vowed my life to you, that will be the second-best day of my life," he looks up at his glowing wife with a soft smile.

"She'll probably smell like a clean lil' baby," he coos.

"No, she'll smell like blood and placenta and hospital chemicals," she adds lightly in a giggle.

"Either way, she'll be perfect because _we_ made her."

"Oh, Al," she coos. "You're going to make such a good father, darling," she leans down and kisses him on the lips, his hands instinctively roaming her exposed thigh.

"I need to pee," she pulls away urgently, her bladder ready to explode.

While she relieves herself, Alan neatly makes their bed, placing the decorative pillows back against the headboard before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

He switches on the kettle for tea and slides two pieces of full-grain bread into the toaster, his eyes trailing after his wife as she enters the kitchen still dressed in her pajamas.

"I thought you were taking a shower?" He asks, looking over at her as she crosses the date off the calender.

"I'm going to in a minute, I forgot the laundry down here," she slips into the laundry room and folds the last bits of clothing before placing it into the laundry basket.

"I don't want you overworking yourself, darling, let me do that," he comes to stand next to her, taking the towel from her hands.

"Al, I'm fine. As long as I have two fully functioning hands I'd like to make use of them. Soon, they'll be busy holding a little bundle of baby and then I won't have time for any of this," she sweetly pries the towel from his hands.

He purses his lips while giving her a calculating look, "Then let me make you breakfast, please?"

"Thank you, but no thank you. I don't want to upturn my schedule. I'll go have my shower and then I'll come down to have breakfast before you leave for work," she pecks him on the mouth before turning with the laundry basket in hand.

She walks out of the laundry room and sets the basket down on the kitchen island as she pours herself a glass of icy water from the fridge. She yawns and quickly covers her mouth, her other hand gently rubbing over her stomach.

"You're tired already?" Alan emerges from the laundry room with a chuckle.

"Not just me," she speaks through her yawn. "Either baby Rickman is still sleeping or she's ready to fall asleep again, she's been very still this morning. Haven't you sweetheart?" She speaks the last part down at her stomach.

"It's okay, baby girl, I'm sleepy too this morning," she pops a pre-natal vitamin into her mouth before securing the container and setting it back on the island.

"At least let me carry this upstairs for you?" He takes the laundry basket and waits to see if she'll protest.

"Okay, yeah, that is kind of heavy," she chuckles in compliance and leads the way up the stairs, her glass of water in hand.

Alan sets the basket on the foot of the bed for her before heading back downstairs as she enters the bathroom, closing the door to the en-suite behind her.

She turns the tap in the jet-stream shower on as she waits for the water to get hot. Taking her time, she unbuttons her sleep top while looking at herself in the mirror as the steam starts to fog it up at the edges.

She discards the top on the floor by her feet, her hands roaming her soft skin. She squeezes her sensitive breasts gently, mentally feeling for any foreign lumps as her eyes land on her protruding stomach. She bites her bottom lip as she smiles like a goof, excitement vibrating through her, her heart starting to pump faster as she thinks about how soon the due date is.

_I can't believe I'm going to be a mum soon!_

She shakes her head at her own goofiness and carefully steps into the shower, letting the water run over her face and wetting her shoulder-length bob. She hums along to Paloma Faith's _Guilty_ as she squeezes the fresh smelling lavender shampoo into her hand.

She takes her time massaging her hair and her scalp before applying conditioner and rinsing it out. She squirts a decent amount of the rice milk shower gel onto her stomach and the cool sensation reminds her of all the times they went for an ultrasound.

She smiles thinking back at how nervous she was for the first one, how certain she was that the doctor would tell her it's all just a joke or that the baby has some complications. She remembers how she kept looking at Alan's face instead of the screen the day they found out the gender of their baby and how his features lit up as he saw her in 4D on the screen; she remembers him frowning and clearing his throat as tears pooled in his eyes, of course, denying that he's emotional.

She laughs quietly at her own memories as her hands massage her now soapy stomach, gently trying to feel the outline of their nearly full-grown baby girl. Sometimes, she'll pretend that she's already able to hold their baby as she cradles her stomach.

This is her first pregnancy and (Y/N) never in a million years thought that she'd be lucky enough to be a mum, nevermind the mum to Alan Rickman's baby.

Alan gobbles up the last piece of toats, silently belching, before he swallows a drink of his steaming hot Darjeeling tea. He flips the newspaper to the last page and checks his watch.

_09:34_

He downs the last of his tea and sets his plate and cup in the drying rack after rinsing them.

_She's still showering?_

He wonders incredulously as he hears the water from the pipes above him still traveling down inside the kitchen wall, as it has been for the past thirty-five minutes.

He clears a piece of crumb from between his teeth with his fingernail, before tidying the kitchen.

(Y/N) has been taking notably longer showers these past few days, _probably masturbating,_ he figures. They've been pleasing each other countless times in the past week at the hotel that he'd say he's sufficiently pleased for the next couple of months. He also knows the urge probably springs her in the shower, what with the delectably hot water running down her back and down her legs, how could she resist, right?

_Down, boy._

He sure as hell couldn't, he thinks to himself as he walks up the stairs and enters their shared bedroom.

"(Y/N), darling, you've been in there for quite some time now, are you close to finishing up?" Alan asks through the closed en-suit door, the shower drowning out his every word.

"Look, the water bill is going to be massive. If you're masturbating, hurry up and finish or at least let me come in and help," he says cheekily after receiving no answer.

"(Y/N)?" Concern grows in his tone of voice. "I'm coming in..."

He slowly pushes through the door, his heart sinking as he sees the scene in front of him.

(Y/N) awakes to the sound of someone shouting her name. It's so loud that she wishes it will stop. Her eyes feel heavy, but another person's shouting snaps them open.

_Alan?_

She sees a man in uniform enter through the door to their spacious bathroom that now looks turned on its side.

_Am I on the floor? Where is all the water coming from?_

Everything feels like she's in a trance-like state, her vision trailing slowly as her head hangs and she sees her hands clasping desperately onto her stomach.

She feels embarrassed as she notes her naked self, heaven forbid that this unknown man sees her naked body that is only meant for Alan's gaze.

_Where is Alan?_

The man in uniform bends beside her, a pair of baby blue gloves covering his hands as he shines a flashlight in her eyes.

_Hey, stop that!_

"Alright, Ma'am, can you tell me your name?" she hears him ask softly.

_(Y/N) (Y/L/N). No, wait, that's not right. (Y/N) Rickman._

"No response," he calls out. "Can you try to get up?" His ambient words ring faintly in her ears.

_Can someone turn the water down? Alan's going to go bonkers over the utility bill... Oh, hi, Al._

She sees Alan standing worriedly behind the uniformed man in the distance, turning to talk to a similarly uniformed woman with a clipboard.

_What are all these people doing in our house? Wha- where are you taking me?_

She groans as the man drapes her fluffy white bathrobe over her, covering her nakedness. The woman comes over and helps him move (Y/N) onto a stretcher.

Her vision goes black again and when she opens her eyes next, she's blinded by bright white lights, her body jerking as she's wheeled into the hospital, judging by the smell of it.

_Al?_

She can see the man and his partner, the woman from earlier, above her, talking back and forth to one another before someone else joins them, looking frightened.

_Oh, hello. Who's this? Wait, aren't you my OBGYN?_

(Y/N) hears the EMT frantically talking, telling information about her pupils and pulse and other things she didn't quite understand. She wants to cry out in fear, ask where Alan is, but she can't as she feels a mask over her mouth and nose probably blowing oxygen into her.

_The baby! What about my baby?!_

The female EMT bends beside (Y/N), saying soothing words into her ear. Soothing words that she can't understand. She assures her everything will be alright and that she just needs to keep breathing through the pain.

"Alan," she mutters faintly as she sees her husband's familiar face come into vision above her.

_Why are you crying, darling?_

She wants to struggle against the restraints, she tries to pull and tug and tries to sit up, but she can't. She wants to see his face, to hug him, to tell him everything will be okay.

"(Y/N), you need to calm down," was the last thing she remembers the EMT telling her before she woke up again.

She is now propped up in a hospital bed in a private room, looking out at the glass door where she can see a very upset Alan.

"MY WIFE IS HERE, SHE'S BEEN OUT OF SURGERY FOR THE PAST THREE HOURS, NO ONE HAS COME TO CHECK ON HER YET. WE NEED TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!"

She cringes at hearing Alan's harsh muffled shouting through the glass door. She's always hated when he shouts. He rarely does it, but when he does it seems like such an unnatural thing for him. Maybe it's because he's always so mellow and laid back.

"I know, sir, I understand, we've contacted the doctor multiple times, she's trying to place this all together. Rest assured, she's on her way now," a nurse explains very calmly.

"YOU SAID THAT TWENTY MINUTES AGO-" he yells again.

(Y/N) hates seeing him like this, seeing him break down and lose control over reality...

A pain shoots through her again and she looks down at her stomach, scrunching her face up in disgust and she begins crying. Again, for what feels like the hundredth time today. She sobs into her sheets, desperate for this all to be over.

"Darling-" She hears the glass door slide open, followed by Alan's concerned voice as he turned around moments before only to see her curled up in the bed, looking ever so frail.

"Sweetheart, what's the matter? What hurts?" He asks sweetly, taking her clenched hand in his.

"My heart-" she gasps and wails loudly.

"Shh," he breathes heartbroken, letting his own tears spill too.

After a while, her puffy eyes start to feel heavy, her cramps slowly subsiding. Maybe it is because of the medicine they gave her, or maybe it is because of the warm presence of Alan around her, either way, she quickly fell asleep in the midst of her crying.

(Y/N)'s OBGYN comes in shortly after she dozed off.

"We should let her rest, she needs all the rest that she can get," she hears the doctor telling Alan.

Her eyes slowly open at the intrusive voice, her head slowly stirring against the pillow.

"How are you feeling, Mrs. Rickman?" The doctor asks sweetly, solemnly.

"I am in a great deal of pain, Doctor... Help me understand what happened, please," she pleads, tears already threatening to spill from her brown orbs.

"First, you need to tell me anything you can remember about this morning, what started this all?"

She looks over at Alan, her eyes searching his for guidance.

"What happened, darling?" He encourages her, taking her hand in his and smoothly running his thumb over her knuckles.

_She grits her teeth and pauses her massaging as a wave of cramps washes over her._

_Am I hurting the baby? She worries and quickly rinses her body in the fear that their baby might not like the gentle massaging._

_I'm not pushing that hard, am I?_

_With another set of cramps, her bladder fills and she sighs relieved thinking that she might just need to urinate. She lets the water run down her chest as she focuses on urinating, hoping that the cramps will subside._

_She looks down at the running water expecting it to be tinted yellow, but instead panic sets in as she sees a red trail making its way down the drain._

_Complete and utter panic sets in as worst-case scenarios start flooding through her mind._

_Wait, what if the baby is on her way? She thinks excitedly._

_Trying to remain calm and instead of shouting to Alan, potentially causing him unnecessary panic, she decides she'll quickly rinse off and get dressed before going to ask him calmly for help._

_She doubles over as a sharp pain shoots through her abdomen, (Y/N) clutching at her stomach and bucking to the floor._

_Is that what a contraction feels like?_

_By now she is crying, although trying to remain calm, "Everything is okay, baby girl. We're okay. We'll get to the hospital soon and you can make your delivery there. Please, just not... in the bathroom while I'm starkers, okay? Okay."_

_Another sharp pain makes (Y/N) change her mind about the baby's arrival._

_Something doesn't feel right._

_Tears flow involuntarily down her cheeks, her chest feeling tight as she tries to steady her breathing. She can't breathe, she's panicking._

_"Okay, calm down," she breathes, steadying herself against the tiled shower wall. "Okay," she keeps repeating._

_"(Y/N), darling, you've been in there for quite some time now, are you close to finishing up?" she can hear Alan ask through the closed en-suit door, the shower drowning out his every word._

_She can't find the energy to say anything more, to call for help or to move, as another set of cramps hit her causing her to whimper._

_"Look, the water bill is going to be massive. If you're masturbating, hurry up and finish or at least let me come in and help," she hears him say cheeky, but his words sound so faint._

_"Help... me..." is what she wants to utter, but she can't._

_(Y/N) feels more blood seeping down the side of your legs, and she starts to feel dizzy. The bathroom begins to spin, her eyes and head starting to feel absurdly heavier._

_"(Y/N)?"_

_She wants to answer, but she's slipping down the wall, into the shower tub that's now slowly filling with more red-stained water, as she drifts off and darkness overcomes her._

"Okay," the doctor whispers, then she takes a seat on the chair next to Alan and starts to explain.

She explains the terms _obstetrical complications_ and _uterine rupture,_ and how it only happens in 1% of all pregnancies.

She explains how in the mother, uterine ruptures can cause major blood loss, or hemorrhaging. However, that fatal bleeding due to uterine rupture is rare when it occurs in a hospital and that (Y/N) is very lucky that Alan stumbled upon her in good time.

She also goes on to explain that 6% of babies survive a uterine rupture if the baby is delivered within the first ten to fourty minutes, and how, unfortunately, they didn't reach the hospital in time for that to happen.

For the first time that day, (Y/N) didn't cry. She just sat, puffy-eyed, and tired. Her hand finding it's way to her noticeably smaller stomach. A protruding bump that once held her and Alan's beautiful baby girl. Their beautiful, beautiful girl that is now gone.

Then she remembers, "I couldn't feel her," she says, looking frightened over at Alan and then the doctor.

The doctor raises her eyebrow at (Y/N) in question.

"This morning," she continues, "Last night... She's always so active when I'm sleeping, but this morning, I-I even commented on how she let me sleep through the night for the first time..." She looks at Alan, her mouth agape as she tries to search for words.

"I was _happy_ she wasn't kicking and she was probably dead alrea-," she gasps out in sobs. "I should've known."

She looks to Alan, her eyes desperate for a reaction. He crosses his arms and squeezes his eyes shut at her words, hanging his head.

She starts to panic again at the realization that this was her fault, her heart rate monitor now beeping rapidly.

"I should've known, I should've known, I should've come in sooner, you could've saved her," she cries frantically, looking over at the doctor.

The doctor quickly gets up, rushing over to her other side where the machine is.

"No, no, no," the doctor assures (Y/N), "miscarriages are unpreventable, once they happen, there's no way to stop them. There was no way of knowing anything was wrong until it all happened."

She speaks quickly, placing the oxygen mask over (Y/N)'s face again as she helps her to breathe and calm down.

She looks over at Alan who still has his arms crossed, his head still hanging, and she can tell he is fighting off a fresh round of tears.

_He's not getting his baby girl. I can't give him his baby girl._

The doctor proceeds to tell them that their baby has been delivered, although it is a stillbirth, and asked if they'd like to see her.

(Y/N)'s face looks frightened over at Alan, his face solemn and painful.

"Can we talk about this first?" Alan asks the doctor quietly as he nears his wife's bedside again.

(Y/N) understands Alan's caution. This could leave an impression on them both for the rest of their lives.

"I want to see her," (Y/N) says softly to her husband once the doctor leaves the room, promising to return once they've made their decision.

"Y/N-" Alan mumbles, sounding tired and defeated.

"Do you want to see her?"

"One side of me wants nothing more than to see her, to hold her. You know yourself how excited I've been about meeting her..."

"But?" She asks, encouraging his thought process.

"But..." he sighs, "it's not going to be the same, darling. It's going to be an empty shell of a baby that will resemble us but will have none of the characteristics that we'd hoped for..."

"I want to see her," she reiterates quietly.

"Darling," he breathes, "no-"

"Please," she whispers, linking their fingers together as she swallows the lump in her throat, "Alan, please, I need to see her."

He looks up at her, searching her eyes.

"I need you to explain to me what is going to happen, first. Please, babe, talk me through it, just say anything to make my mind go still..." she squeezes his hand.

He breathes. She always does this - when she's overthinking or overwhelmed, she always asks him to talk her through what scenarios might happen in order to still her mind.

"We're going to hold our baby girl," his voice cracks, "and she's not going to be a healthy glowing baby, she'll probably be blue and cold to the touch..."

(Y/N) winches at the thought, squeezing Alan's hand harder as she cries quietly, reaching up to wipe at his wet cheek.

"We'll both be very happy to hold her, we'll cry, maybe take some pictures to remember her... And then the utter heartbreak will set in, the realization that she's not real and will not be going home with us, unfortunately. And we'll cry. And you'll resent your decision forever agreeing to see her and I'll resent myself for having allowed you," he sobs, resting his head against their intertwined hands.

"But we've waited so long..." she cries.

"I know, I know, my sweet. We could pretend that we're strong enough and agree to see her and say goodbye, and we can still cry but put it behind us, move on overtime. Or we could end up resenting each other and ultimately filing for divorce after years of denial and self-hatred..."

"I think we're stronger than that," she says quietly before Alan stands up and walks outside to tell the nurse they're decision.

The doctor returns into the room, looking over at the couple and nods, indicating to an older nurse waiting outside.

She brings in a bundle wrapped in soft pink blankets and (Y/N)'s heart starts to beat quickly. This all feels too surreal. Alan looks at his wife as her eyes trail the nurse steadily and he sighs. He can see the little glimmer of hope still present in her eyes, the wish that their child may still be alive.

_Is that what I'm seeing or what I'm rather hoping myself?_

He swallows, catching a glimpse of his child's preciously small face. And his heart stops. His thoughts stop. His breathing nearly stops.

_She would've been beautiful._

For a man of many words and many intellectual ways to phrase it, Alan wouldn't be able to tell you the amount of pain he's experiencing today, the amount of heartache he's feeling.

For nearly nine months of their lives, he and his wife have been scurrying to get things ready, upturning their lives, their schedules, their home, to prepare for Baby Rickman's arrival. And here she is. But she won't get to be a part of their daily, not this time. She won't get to come home with them and live in the house that he has spent hours each morning telling her about. She won't get to experience the limitless love that Alan and (Y/N) has for her.

The nurse gently passes the bundle to (Y/N) and, similarly to Alan, her breathing stops. If hearts were made of glass, one would be able to hear an enormous shattering inside of (Y/N) right now. A breath catches in her throat and she lets out a restrained sob for in her arms she's holding a small baby, their small baby, laying in front of her, lifeless. Pale blue and cold to the touch. Just like Alan said.

Alan was right, she shouldn't have seen her. Their baby was supposed to be full of joy, this baby only brings sadness and dread.

Without a word, the doctor and nurse leave the couple with their stillborn baby.

Alan can't take his own curiosity anymore and he slowly makes his way over to his wife's bedside. His large hand comes around her to rest on her shoulder, gently squeezing it in comfort.

He hates hearing her cries. He hates seeing her break like this. He swallows his own tears and gently slides onto the bed beside his wife and child.

He wraps an arm around her, his other hand gently resting on their bundled baby. He closes his eyes as he cradles his wife, who cradles their child, swiftly imagining a world how it was supposed to be, and that he's not holding his family in a hospital bed but in their own bed on a quiet Sunday morning.

He places kiss after kiss against (Y/N)'s temple as his tears roll down his cheeks. After what seemed to be hours, he can tell she can't handle this any longer, so he presses the nurse call button. The older woman cautiously enters the room and he tells her it's enough, she reaches over and takes their baby from (Y/N)'s arms.

Pain bubbles up in her chest and she let out an uncontrollable sob after seeing the nurse leave with a piece of their hearts.

"Alan-" she gasps, reaching out to him, her eyes filling with tears, everything becoming clouded by her cries.

Soon enough, she feels Alan's warm arms wrap around her. He cradles her closer to him, offering her comfort but this time she doesn't fall asleep. She continues to cry into his chest, ruining his shirt with her tears.

Everything hurts. Her stomach is still cramping, her head pounding, her chest heavy. She clutches onto the fabric of Alan's shirt with everything she has left. Alan, at a loss for words, just strokes her hair, whispering that he loves her over and over again.

A week has passed since the terrible event, (Y/N)'s supposed due date looming only two days ahead. She sighs as she thinks about the fact that it will now no longer be a birthday that they'll celebrate in the future, but an anniversary. A death anniversary.

In the past week, neither she nor Alan has been able to go into the nursery. Their plan was to move everything into storage, to save it for a later time. Alan had said he'll task himself to take down the decorations and repaint the walls so (Y/N) wouldn't have to endure the pain again.

_What pain?_

Everyone prepares you for the pain of childbirth, the post-partum pain, but no-one prepares you for the pain of coming home after birth without a baby. She had to endure close to nine months of carrying a life inside her, spending all that time nurturing herself and their baby, taking the vitamins, attending the doctor appointments and the classes, reading the books... And then this past week she had to endure pumping milk out of her only to throw it out, endure the post-partum pain, the constant bleeding, the tenderness between her legs... And all for what? She has nothing to show for it.

_And what about Alan's pain?_

He had vowed to take down the nursery, yet every time, she catches him standing with arms crossed, leaning against the doorway as he clutches the beloved stuffed pink bunny that was supposed to be their child's first toy in his hands. She can see that he's trying to stay strong for her, but she notices his stray tears when he thinks she can't see him.

Instead, they've mutually decided to leave the room untouched for now and to shut the door, and that he'll call someone in the following week to come in and redecorate the room into a guest room or third office.

Funny, they seem so distant now. _"I think we're stronger than that,"_ rings her last words to Alan in the hospital throughout her mind for the hundredth time. They've both been awfully quiet since coming home, not having spoken more than a few syllables to each other in the past week. In a way, they haven't worked through their loss together as they both would go off on their own to mourn.

He is still a very supportive husband, helping her to take a bath, making them meals, holding her as they go to bed together. But she can tell their loss is eating him up inside. No matter how strong Alan Rickman is portraying to be, she can see him being scared and hurt.

Which is why she finds herself standing in front of him in their kitchen at midnight, only the soft yellow glow of the under-cabinet lighting providing light in the otherwise dark room.

"Al, why are you up?" She whispers, her voice hoarse from all the crying.

"I'm making tea, do you care for some?" He replies softly and she can hear he's tired, his back turned to her as he fiddles with the teabags.

"I can see that, but why are you making tea at midnight?"

"I'm thirsty," he replies softly, of course, lying.

"Then have a drink of water and come back to bed."

"..."

"But you're not, are you? Because you've been _thirsty_ every night for the past week where I wake up in the middle of the night to find the bed empty and you sleeping on the couch, only to find you back in bed before I wake up again..."

"Darling, I-" he stutters.

Her cold hand touches his naked back, reaching around him to stop his hands from fidgeting before she turns him around slowly.

Her hands reach up to his cheeks, gently encasing his jaw as she studies his eyes, red from crying. She stands on her tippy toes and places a delicate kiss on his lips, his arms instinctively wrapping around her now distinctively flatter figure.

He can feel the wetness of her tears mix with their kiss and he pulls away, resting his forehead against his as he holds her close, really _holds her_ for the first time in what feels like forever. He knows she's trying to tell him something that she's too timid to say out loud.

"What do you need, my love?" He asks in a mere whisper.

"Your mum."

His eyes meet hers and he pulls away, still holding her, "Why _my_ mum?"

"Because..." She breathes through tears, "because my mum is more than thirteen-thousand kilometers away and I want nothing more than for an _adult_ to tell us what to do because I feel like we're fucking this up."

"Okay," he breathes solemnly. "Okay, we can gather some things and leave in a few minutes."

He rests his chin on the top of her head as he stares off into the darkness outside.

They take but ten minutes to pack themselves a small travel bag each and hit the road in the pitch black of the night sky. The five-hour car ride to Cornwall is quiet, but they know they needn't say anything until they reach their adult advisors. Alan assures her of her closeness as he intertwines their hands, resting it on the console between the seats.

"We're here," he says softly a few hours later to a dozing (Y/N).

They both sit silently in the quiet car, her eyes raking up the front of the period English countryside home. She sees the lights to the downstairs living room turn on, alerting them that the occupants are aware of their arrival.

"Are you ready?" Alan's quiet words pull her from her thoughts, and she nods her head minutely.

"Are you?" She utters.

"No."

_Good, at least he's honest._

He opens the boot of the car and takes their two duffel bags in hand before coming to her side, opening the door and helping her out.

The countryside offers a different kind of silence, an eery dead silence, as their shoes crunch through the gravel, crickets faintly chirping in the distance. The sky is a dark navy blue, on the verge of dawn in the far east on the horizon, but still dark as sunrise isn't expected until at least 06:53.

Alan looks down at his watch.

_05:12_

The front door is already open, a Welsh couple in their late seventies clad in their housecoats awaiting them, the soft yellow light shining against their backs.

Their faces look solemn, Alan's mother's face adorning a soft smile of understanding and compassion.

Alan watches as the older woman stretches her arms out as (Y/N) nears her, gently letting her step into her grip and hugging her tightly.

"(Y/N), my dear," she breathes.

"Good to see you, Mummy," (Y/N) utters, quickly trying to swallow her tears.

"Son," Alan's father says sympathetically, opening his arms for a hug, too.

"Dad," he greets, returning the hug with a sigh.

He takes the one bag from Alan, helping him carry it inside as they close the door behind them, everyone bundled up close in the cozy front entrance.

"Come with me, dear. Bernard will have a chat with Alan," she takes (Y/N) by the hand and leads her up the creaky old stairs to the guest room.

Her eyes quickly search Alan's as she's lead away, the last thing she saw, a small smile from him in confirmation.

_Everything will be alright._

Bernard makes them a cup of tea each before he cozies up by the fire with his second eldest son, sharing his words of wisdom and support.

Similarly, Margaret has (Y/N) upstairs where they're curled up on the guest bed as the older woman strokes (Y/N)'s hair, telling her all about the unfairness of the world and how they need to move forward.

"You shouldn't push her away, my dear boy," Bernard starts calmly.

"Dad, I'm no-" Alan interrupts.

"I know what you're going to say, son. You're not pushing her away knowingly, but you still are. Yes, you might be helping her out and holding her, but your heart is not in it. Your heart is currently shattered to bits, I can see that," his father says with a knowing look.

"But so is hers. She is mourning the loss of your child, too. Those hopes and dreams need to be grieved, along with the loss of your child, but you two need to do it _together_ ," he offers Alan his handkerchief and watches as his son wipes at his wet eyes.

"Men don't experience the hormonal changes or the physical reality of the pregnancy, dear, and sometimes we forget that as women," Margaret says hopefully to her daughter-in-law's back as she keeps stroking her hair.

"Alan is suffering his loss second hand because he only gets to live the experience by proxy. For him, the pain might feel real, and also not real, so it is normal for him to not grieve the same way."

A knock on the ajar guest room door alerts the two women of Alan's presence. (Y/N) slowly sits up in the bed, Margaret scooting off and going to give her son a hug, pulling him down to her height.

"I'll leave you two to it. I'll make some tea in the meantime, take your time," she squeezes Alan's hand and smiles softly at (Y/N) before retrieving downstairs.

"Are you cold?" Alan asks, his voice hoarse.

She nods her head a few times, her hand rubbing her upper arm. He walks over to the fireplace, poking at the coals a few times before kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed with her, covering her shoulders with a quilted blanket as they sit back against the headboard.

He reaches for her hand and rests it on his knee, both their wedding bands glistening against the light of the fire in front of them.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he starts, looking softly over at her. "And I am sorry for being mentally and emotionally absen-" his voice cracks, and for the first time, he's not ashamed to have her see his tears, his sorrows.

She slings her arm across his chest, giving him a side hug before she motions for him, and they both scoot down to lay on their sides, facing each other.

"Shh, darling," she cries. "You were unsure which pain is worse - the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will, I can totally understand that," she sobs in the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms tightly around her, trying to not let go.

They intertwine their legs, their arms safely holding each other as they mourn the loss of their Baby Rickman together for the first time since that fateful day.

"How are they?" Bernard asks his wife as she joins him on the sofa in front of the fire, handing him a fresh cup of hot tea.

"They'll be okay. They'll be okay," she speaks to her husband with a small smile.

Her words have never been truer.


End file.
